


Compelled

by sv_you_know_who_I_am



Series: A Court of War and Starlight One-Shots [4]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7142141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sv_you_know_who_I_am/pseuds/sv_you_know_who_I_am
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After flying together, Cassian and Nesta finally confront the tensions between them, and Nesta reveals the secret that has burdened her for fourteen years. Post-ACOMAF. Takes place during Chapter 37 of ACOWAS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compelled

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This takes place after Chapter 37 but should be read after Chapter 38 of “A Court of War and Starlight.” Unlike the other one-shots, this one is pretty tied to the events in ACOWAS and might not make much sense out of context. But if you really just want some Nessian angst, you’ll definitely get it here. The setting is the Day Court, in the mountains outside of Ochieng, right after Cassian has just gone flying for the first time with his healed wings.
> 
>  

****The moment Nesta laughed, Cassian knew it was the most beautiful sound he had heard in six hundred years. **  
**

It took all his willpower not to crush her to his chest and never let her go, just so that he could hear her laugh again and again for the rest of eternity. The rapture of flying again for the first time in weeks, of feeling the wind brushing against him and propelling him through the sky, was second to the joy of hearing Nesta laugh.

Cauldron boil him. He was in shit up to his balls and he didn’t even care.

Nesta’s laughter faded away as Cassian shifted into gliding, flying smooth circles on the air currents over the mountains, and her bright eyes looked with wonder out over the midnight landscape below. She didn’t realize that he was looking at her, didn’t realize how hard he was fighting to keep himself from brushing her beautiful brass hair away from her face. She didn’t realize that his efforts to look out for her every night had taken on their own life within him--that while at first he had forced himself to dare getting near her, now it was a struggle to keep away. He had warned himself, again and again, not to get too close, not to get too attached, because he was sure she would reject him, reject the bond between them. She’d implied as much back when they’d been alone together in her house and she had spat on the idea of ever being with a bastard like him. And looking at her now, looking at the radiance of her, he didn’t blame her.

She deserved so much better than him.

The amazed smile on Nesta’s face as they flew through the air took his breath away. He’d never seen anything like it on her--nothing so guileless or pure. And it suited her. Almost as though something had snapped into place, and he was seeing the real Nesta for the very first time.

He didn’t dare say anything to ruin this moment as they flew for a long while, enjoying the brush of the breeze against their skin and through their hair. After a while, he began to tire, and he realized that though he might be completely healed, he was out of practice and couldn’t keep it up all night like he wanted. So he banked and spiraled them downward to another side of the mountain some distance from where they’d launched. He carefully set her down on the ground, letting her grip his arm as she got her land legs back. He missed her the moment she stepped away from him to look out over the expanse of earth below them, off toward the glittering sea in the distance. She was a goddess, and he wanted to fall to his knees before her and worship her.

“Well?” he asked breathlessly. “Pretty good, right?”

Nesta was quiet for a moment. Then without looking at him she said, “It was all right.”

Cassian felt the breath whoosh out of him. “All right?” he asked in a low voice. Flying was the thing he cherished most in the world--and she said it was _all right_? He’d seen the look on her face, heard her laugh . . .

She shrugged one shoulder.

The word ripped from his throat before he could stop it. “ _Bitch_.”

She whirled to face him, eyes wide. The wind snapped her hair across her face and he _hated_ how beautiful she looked, even as furious as she was. “Excuse me?” she said in a low voice.

He clenched his fists at his sides. “That was incredible, and you know it. I . . . I heard you laugh, Nesta. I saw you _smile_.”

Her face sealed into cool indifference. “That was a mistake,” she said. “I was surprised. That’s all.”

Cassian snarled. “Like _hell_ you were.” He shook his head and scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sometimes I think it might _actually_ kill you to give a damn about anything, Nesta.”

Nesta froze and Cassian knew he’d struck a nerve. She blinked, and then in a surprising whisper she said, “How do you know it wouldn’t?”

He furrowed his brow. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Nesta was a pillar of ice before him. In fact, he could see her arms being coated with scaly ice as bits of magic escaped the containment of her Siphon with the strength of her sudden but inscrutable emotion. “Do you think I enjoy it?” she asked, her voice harsh and low. “Do you honestly think I enjoy keeping these walls up, keeping everyone and everything away from me? Do you think I enjoy this loneliness?”

“I don’t see how anyone would,” Cassian said, lowering his arms. “But if you don’t enjoy it, why bother? It’s worth it, to let people in. It’s terrifying as hell, I’ll give you that, but it’s not the end of the world to let yourself _exist_.”

“It would be,” Nesta said softly. Her eyes hardened and burned into Cassian’s. “I wish every damned day that I could love as freely as Elain, or give of myself as wildly as Feyre, but if I did that, if I let go of this”--she gestured to her her stiff posture, the ice coating her skin--“it could mean losing everything that I love.”

“You’re making no sense,” Cassian growled.

“I know,” she breathed, and when her eyes filled with tears Cassian felt as though he’d been punched in the chest.

“Nesta,” he murmured, and the unacknowledged bond between them drew him close to her. She didn’t flinch away. He looked down at her, wings spread behind him, and he raised a rough, calloused thumb to brush away a tear that had slipped from her eye. Then, with bated breath, he slipped his arm around her waist and invited her close with a slight tug. She didn’t fight him, didn’t resist. She stepped into his embrace and laid her cheek against his chest, pressing against the Siphon there. He wrapped his arms around her back and simply held it. He could not fathom this woman, and he hated the bond that compelled him toward her. Even so, he knew he would hate the moment she stepped away from his arms even more.

-

This. Damned. _Male_.

Even as her face pressed against his chest, even as his touch quieted the storm beneath her skin, she hated him.

No. No, she didn’t hate him. She hated that she could never have him. It was too dangerous to let herself feel, to dare release the flood of things she had bound up since she was small. Too much was at stake. Too damned much.

Still, she would be an idiot if she didn’t admit that she had begun looking forward to his visit every evening. Because after hours upon hours of Lord Helion scraping away at her with a fine-tooth comb, looking for the innermost details of her existence, the secrets she had kept hidden her entire life, she felt raw and impure and vulnerable. But when Cassian prowled into her room night after night, grumpy and cantankerous yet boundlessly gentle, watching her with his intense hazel eyes to make sure she ate . . . she didn’t feel quite so fragile after all. She never admitted it to him, but she wondered if he knew. He seemed to see things about her that no one else could. Perhaps that was why he kept coming back, even when she rebuffed him. He knew she needed him, even if she wouldn’t admit that herself.

She was close to breaking. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold Helion off from discovering the truth about what she was--what her sisters were. But she _had_ to. In this chaotic world, there was one thing she could do to help, to protect her sisters, and it was this.

She lost herself for a moment in the feeling of his rough hands rubbing her back, soothing the thrumming magic within her. It had gotten better--so much better--since she’d received the Siphon, and she still wasn’t sure if the Siphon was really helping or if it just made her believe it did. But since Cassian had first put it on her neck in the Illyrian camp--she could still feel his fingers on her shoulder as she fell asleep at night--she had not heard the Cauldron’s taunting voice at every moment. She had not felt as though she would going to dissolve into mist and never come back again.

She had never been more terrified than she had been the night she’d fought Feyre. The utter _rage_ that had consumed her had been not of this world, and it had utterly wrecked her. She couldn’t remember half of the things she had done that night as the magic had acted of its own accord, stealing from her life’s force and her body and her potential until she had almost _killed_ \--

She had almost killed one of the two people she had spent her life protecting.

She felt Cassian stiffen just slightly as she turned her head and the wind rustled her hair. “What is it?” she asked.

“You’ll hate me,” he rasped.

“I hate everyone,” she muttered. “You’re not special.”

A soundless laugh shook his body before he sobered. “We’re mates.”

She squeezed her eyes shut but did not dare peel away from him, even though she knew she should. She felt the nerves wash over his body as he waited for her to rip away, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not when it seemed like his body, his arms, were the only thing keeping her together.

The words clanged through her. _We’re mates_. The two words she’d feared and run from her entire life. She had known it was coming since she was a child and had dreaded it ever since. But Cassian . . .

“I know,” she breathed.

He was the one to pull away, and when his eyes met hers his face was drawn in shock. “You _know_?” he demanded.

“I’ve known,” she clarified, her face carefully calm--not hard, but even.

“How long?” he ground out.

She swallowed, and a sudden wave of shame she couldn’t explain hit her, causing him to break eye contact. “Since the day I kneed you in the balls.”

“ _What_?” he gasped, a look that was the perfect blend of wonder and betrayal crossing his face. “How? You were . . . you were human then!”

She finally stepped away from him, and she winced as the pain of separating from him struck her, as the rocking of magic threatened to knock her over again. She reached behind her head to grip her hair and keep it from blowing in her face, even as her pulse throbbed and she wasn’t even sure of her own feet on the ground. There was something new under skin, a magic she hadn’t yet touched, that sparked and fired along her veins. “No, I wasn’t,” she breathed.

She didn’t have to look at Cassian to know what his face looked like. She closed her eyes and let more tears leak out. _Why?_ Why did it have to be him, the one to compel her to confess the secret that had burned within her for fourteen years? She had sworn to herself that no one would ever know, and with the slightest prodding, Cassian had opened her up and drawn the truth from her. She hated it.

She was keenly aware of Cassian prowling up behind her, and he took her by the waist and spun her around so that she was forced to look at him again. “Are you going to start making sense any time soon, Nesta Archeron?” he breathed, and she trembled as his low voice echoed in her bones, flooded her senses. She wanted to bury herself in the rough music of it, but still she held back.

“If you knew something that could endanger everyone you loved if you breathed a word of it--if this truth could destroy Rhysand, and Azriel, and Mor and Amren--would you be so willing to offer it up to the first pretty thing to take you flying?” she said, her voice a low hiss.

Cassian’s eyebrow lifted and he smirked. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Shut up,” she spat, and she tried to wrest away from him, but his grip on her waist tightened. She barked out a protest as he suddenly lifted her and sat her on a boulder nearby so that her eyes were just a little higher than his and his body was positioned between her knees. His hands still burned at her waist.

But the mischief had gone from his face. “Listen to me carefully, sweetheart. I am a bastard Illyrian warrior who fought and clawed my way to where I am now even though I was told I would never belong anywhere because of what I am. If you think that I’m going to treat you any differently or think any less of you because of what you are, you’re sorely mistaken. So out with it, or I’ll have to toss you off this mountain and hope that magic of yours is enough to save you.” He grinned deviously and tapped the Siphon at her throat.

She swallowed at the spark that rippled through her at that touch and her nostrils flared at his arrogance, but his words compelled her. Because he was right--of all the people in the world, he might understand the most about the shame of being something _different_.

“I knew what you were that day,” she began, “because I could feel it. And I hated it, because I had made it my whole life without being hit with it, and then you walked in . . .” She paused and swallowed, focusing her thoughts. “When I was small, my mother told me in private that there had been a blessing bestowed on her parents and their descendants, that every one of them would be blessed to find their mate one day. Her mate . . . hers was my father. So she left her home, against the wishes of her entire family, and married him.”

“Humans can mate?” Cassian asked, brow knitted in confusion.

“No,” Nesta said. “They can’t. My mother was part fae. Mostly fae, actually. And I am, too.”

Cassian was quiet for a moment as he processed this. “Elain? Feyre?”

“The same.”

Cassian blew out a huff of air. “That explains a lot.”

“Does it?” Nesta asked quietly, looking out over the landscape.

Cassian grinned. “I always thought you were a little wild to be all human.”

Nesta blinked. “Did you now,” she deadpanned.

He chuckled. “I take it Feyre and Elain don’t know?”

“No,” Nesta whispered, “and I’ve kept it that way on purpose. I wasn’t even supposed to know, but I found out anyway.” She took a deep breath. “My mother was not . . . she was made such a fool by her bond with my father that she never considered the consequences of having children with him. Not until it was clear that we were more than just human ourselves. And she didn’t care that she had pissed off her entire family by leaving her home.” Her eyes flashed. “She adored my father, but he didn’t deserve her. Even at his best, she outshone him. She was shackled to him, to this man who wasn’t enough for her and didn’t even--didn’t even fight for her when her family found her and came to take her back. Never tried to find her. Just let his daughters believe that their mother had died--even though I had _watched_ from the closet as they stole her away and all he could do was beg.

“I swore then that I hated faeries, all of them. I didn’t care about magic. All I wanted was to protect my sisters from ever finding out what we were . . . because if they didn’t know, then they’d be safe. And I swore that I would never fall in love, never find my mate, because I never wanted to be my mother--never wanted to be bound for eternity to someone who wouldn’t even fight for me.” A sob broke from her throat and she clapped a hand to her mouth. Cassian’s fingers contracted against her waist, and the compassion on his face was almost enough to break her entirely.

“I’d fight for you,” he growled, his gaze piercing hers. “I’ve sworn it to you already, and I’ll swear it again. I . . . I failed you in Hybern. I tried, but . . . I couldn’t get to you. But I will never let that happen again, Nesta.” He actually trembled with feeling, and he hung his head as the guilt of being unable to save her from the Cauldron tore through him. “I’m sorry.”

-

Saying those two words was perhaps the hardest thing he had ever done. Because the shame he bore for not defending her, for breaking his oath that day . . . it had been a greater shame than even losing his wings.

He couldn’t remember much about that day--it had been difficult to think past the pain. But he remembered her screams--had remembered them every single night since. And he’d cursed himself again and again for being unable to save her.

He was sure she had hated him for it. He had sworn an oath to her and had failed to uphold it. If he were in her position, he would certainly feel that way. It was this, more than anything else, that had him convinced that she would reject the bond.

He couldn’t believe she’d _known_. Known longer than he had. And hadn’t said anything. How very like her. They were a fit pair, that was for certain--each of them running so hard from what confronted them that they were eventually jerked back roughly to crash into each other again. And this . . . this secret that she’d carried for so long--he found himself imagining a young Nesta, always holding back, turning to rage and hate instead of love even though she had yearned to be free of that burden. He was in awe of her.

Suddenly, Nesta reached out and ran her fingers through his thick, black, wind-mussed hair. He stiffened at the touch but then leaned into it. Her hand slipped from his hair and then cradled his rough, stubbled cheek. His skin sang where she touched. She tugged his face up so that he looked into her ice-blue eyes.

“I know you fought,” she murmured. He sucked in a breath as he gazed at her. “You fought just like you promised. For Azriel. And . . . and I felt you fighting. Over the bond between us. And I think . . . I think that bond was what helped me stay together in the Cauldron.” She breathed in sharply. “I didn’t think it was going to be like this.”

“I know,” Cassian said hoarsely. “Neither did I, Nesta. I knew long after you did. I knew in the forest that day, when I gave you the Siphon. It scared the shit out of me.” It’s why he had been such a prick at the end. Because he couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t handle _her_.

Nesta let out a humorless laugh. “It seems we have something in common, then.”

“We don’t have to--” Cassian begun, but he swallowed his words and shuddered. “I know you don’t want this, Nesta. You’ve made that clear. So I won’t--I won’t ask you to accept it.”

“You think you know a thing about me?” Nesta asked, arched eyebrow lifted.

“You mean--” Cassian rasped.

“I don’t mean anything,” Nesta said, her glacial eyes drawing him in. “I . . . I am bound to the Cauldron. I want to be free of it before . . . before anything else.” Cassian could practically see the decision settling over her face. “Yes. I want to be free of the Cauldron, and then I want to rip the King of Hybern to shreds. _Then_ . . . then maybe, after that, once I’m free . . . well, maybe.”

 _Once I’m free_. No three words could have made Cassian understand her more clearly. He knew exactly what she meant, what it meant to crave freedom. She had been held by the chains of these secrets her whole life, and now she was chained to the Cauldron and by Feyre’s bargain with the King of Hybern. And as much as Cassian wanted to know . . . wanted to know what it was like to have that kind of bond with someone . . .

He couldn’t bind her to him now, not when she was shackled to so many other things beyond her control. It crushed him just as much as it filled him with a new mission, a new desire--

He would break her free. In whatever way he could, he would free her and eliminate every last thing that had dug its talons into her throughout her life. “You deserve freedom,” he breathed. “And Nesta, I know I failed you in the last oath I made you, but I will die before I fail you again. I will set you free. Not for me--I don’t give a damn about me--but for you. You . . .” He choked and barely managed to say, “I think I love you.”

He did--he loved this wild, burning woman who had chained herself up and built walls around herself because she loved so deeply and fiercely that she didn’t mind slaying herself for those she loved. He hadn’t seen that before, not when he’d first met her. It amazed him, but she . . . she reminded him of Rhys. Of the sacrifices his High Lord had made for those he loved. And she reminded him of Azriel, the quiet strength that endured everything. And she reminded him of Amren, a force of nature trapped in skin that didn’t suit her. And she reminded him of Mor . . . of the woman he’d long viewed as the paragon for womanhood--her strength, resilience, beauty. Nesta Archeron reminded Cassian of everything he loved in the world, and he had never imagined such a thing possible.

The words hung in the air between them, and he felt Nesta’s hand twitch against his cheek. He braced himself--this was it. These were the words he never should have said, the words that would have her pushing him away.

But then a miracle straight from the Mother happened. Nesta’s other hand rose to the other side of his face and tilted his head back. She closed her eyes and the gap between them, and then her mouth was on his.

Her lips trembled, as though she wasn’t quite sure she knew what she was doing, but the moment Cassian recovered from the shock of it, he began to kiss her back. And without him thinking at all, his strong arms wrapped around her whole body and lifted her from the boulder, pressing her to him and turning away so that her legs dangled in the air. His blood roared at the feeling of her body pressed flush against his, and she continued to hold his face as she kissed him again and again, hungrily, wildly, as only she could.

He tore his mouth from hers, only so he could beginning kissing her exquisite ivory neck. She threw her head back and welcomed it, grinning defiantly as though she were damning all the consequences. Her hands shifted from his face to dig her fingers into the back of his neck, drawing him closer.

A wild groan escaped her lips as he applied his tongue and teeth to her skin, and the sound almost unleashed him. Some small part of him held back, though, and instead he settled for lowering her to the ground and pressing her back against the boulder, pinning her between the stone and his solid body.

She didn’t fight it, didn’t protest, only gasped as his mouth raised feelings in her that she had never dared feel. Her hands tore at the back of his neck and then outward, until her fingers scraped the membrane of his wing.

The molten wave that washed over him was enough to rip a snarl from his lips. He pulled back and stood straight, nostrils flared, as he tried with all his strength not to lose control, not to kiss her and touch her the way he’d been longing to for weeks and weeks now. As it was, he felt his cock harden, and he consciously leaned away from her to keep her from knowing.

She regarded him, face red and fire in her eyes. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

Cassian growled, but then he slowly leaned his head down to brush his nose against her jaw. “No, sweetheart. Not at all.” He felt her shudder as his breath caressed her ear and his finger brushed a lock of hair away from her neck. He pressed his lips to her jaw and made a slow, burning line down her neck, down her collarbone, until they paused just above that abhorrent mark on her skin that sealed the bargain with Hybern. A kiss that would seal his promise to her. He was so, so close . . . close to the swell of her breasts, the ones he had imagined holding and kissing for ages now.

He indulged himself--couldn’t resist, the way her chest was heaving beneath him. He dragged his lips across her skin and pressed a single kiss to the supple curve of her breast.

Then he drew away and fixed his eyes on her. “I want you to decide what you want this to be, Nesta,” he said in a low but sincere voice. “I will not cross lines with you. I will not make this something you don’t want.” He drew in a deep breath. “But I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to just keep kissing you all night and all day. And learn some more about these delightful curves of yours.”

Nesta regarded him with bright eyes, her slightly swollen lips parted. Then she smirked. “I think it’s very interesting that a few kisses from me has an Illyrian commander at my beck and call.”

Cassian stiffened, though it was just as much out of admiration as irritation. Because she _did_ , Cauldron damn him, she _did_. She had him. And he was ridiculously happy about it.

His smirk matched hers, and he said, “I’m a dangerous weapon. You ought to be sure you know how to wield me.”

Nesta’s smile widened into something new, a perfect blend of the pure smile she’d worn earlier and the wicked smile she was so practiced at. She leaned up on her toes, brushing against his hardness but not even flinching as she breathed into his ear, “Maybe you should teach me.”

Cassian growled. “I’m told I’m a very good teacher.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that.” And she kissed him again beckoning him into the unknown with her, into chaos and into promise. And he willingly followed, as he knew he would follow her to the ends of the earth, every day . . . every day for the rest of eternity.


End file.
